The Division: Ex Umbra In Solem
by Echo Fox X17
Summary: The world has been overtaken by Green Poison. Nearly every major city has been stricken by chaos and anarchy. While the world lies burning, specially trained individuals will reveal themselves to their friends and family as the glimmer of hope. As they rise from the ashes, they will become a vicious pack of wolves tasked with retaking civilization at any cost.
1. Introduction: Reaper

My name is Michael Shepard. I'm an agent of the Strategic Homeland Division, otherwise known as The Division, empowered by Directive 51. Before that, I was just a Marine. A Raider, to be specific. We are to the Marines what SEALs are to the Navy. I was trained in every form of combat, from hand-to-hand CQC to long-range standoffs. I guess that's one of the reasons I was chosen. The machine wanted me, so it plucked me up like a claw-grabbing game at an arcade.

When I was approached about Directive 51- The Division, that is, I had just gotten back from my fifth combat tour in the Middle East. I was off-base at home when my doorbell rang. It was some ungodly hour in the morning and I still had jetlag. When I answered that door, my entire life changed. Two men in suits had come to my neck of the woods to extend an offer on behalf of the Government.

They asked me to come with them to hear them out. I didn't even have time to put on any real clothes before they ushered me out into their SUV. On the way, they didn't answer any of my questions. Over and over, they told me I would 'have all my questions answered shortly' and completely stonewalled me. I had dealt with some spooks before, and it was pretty clear to me these guys were either CIA or some other intelligence outfit that has been popping up like flies these days.

When the vehicle came to it's final destination, I realized they had lied. It wasn't a short wait. The drive was two hours long. My legs were sore, my throat was dry, and I hadn't had any coffee yet. We were in some underground garrage. I couldn't tell you what city we were in because the windows in the back of the SUV were completely blacked out from the inside-out. In addition, there was a wall between the back of the cab and the front of the cab, preventing me from seeing where we were going.

After riding an elevator, they lead me to a room that had no windows and only one exit. This was long after I realized that this entire situation wasn't exactly on the up-and-up. Inside that room was another suit- another spook. I didn't care about that however because this man had coffee. He could have been Osama Bin Laden and I wouldn't have cared.

He invited me to sit down, poured me a cup of coffee, and told me everything about why I was brought to that very room. Directive 51 is a Presidential power that, when enacted, activates a group of highly skilled people to do everything in their power to re-establish civility in an otherwise anarchy-ridden major city here in the United States of America.

The cause of that anarchy could be anything, from an invading force, to a major city-wide riot, to a viral outbreak. As it turns out, it was a mix of all three that caused me to get activated. More on that later.

The man then went over my entire history. Little details from High School that first put me on their radar. Apparently, in an aptitude test I had been asked to take way back then, I had scored in all the right areas. Then he went on to talk about my enlistment into the Marines. He told me that my superiors spoke very highly of me even when I was a shitstick E-3.

After inflating my ego, he told me what had been the deciding factor in approaching me. My selection for MARSOC. More specifically, what followed that. I won't lie to you, I'm not very humble when it comes to my prowess in fields I'm skilled in. I had broken records all up and down the board when I was selected to join. Where so many others had washed out, I kept on going and asked for more.

After my selection, I went on several operations almost immediately after passing and graduating. I was put with some of the best men I know in some of the worst situations imaginable to accomplish whatever the objective was. I was shot, stabbed, kicked, punched, beaten, and even tortured the time we were overrun.

After being rescued, my first words were "Put me back in, coach" to my C.O. Apparently, that dedication and determination had lead to what this man was now offering me. What he was offering was to be selected for The Division, to essentially be a sleeper agent. I would be allowed to continue on with my life as normal, but the second the little watch on my wrist lit up orange, I was to drop all that and go help a bunch of other sleeper agents take a major city back from whatever had hold of it.

When I asked if it was just Military personnel being selected, he laughed and told me that all kinds of people from all sorts of professions would be selected for this. He referred to us as the 'First Wave' and how there would be a total of three 'Waves' of agents descending upon the country when and if the time came.

We were to be put in groups of fours, never knowing who those other agents were until that time came. He wanted me to be the designated 'Team Leader' since that's the role I've taken in MARSOC. When the time came, we would be activated and given a location to get our gear as well as meet with our team. We would be assigned callsigns upon activation which fit our profile.

Before activation, we wouldn't meet other agents knowingly. With a twinkle in his eye, he said that my own team could be full of either strangers or people I know. When I asked about how that would work if I were out of the country or in the middle of an operation, he just smiled and told me that they had every possible scenario planned. After I had exhausted all of my questions and he had finished answering and explaining them, I was given as much time as I needed to decide. I couldn't leave the room, of course, but I could stay there until I gave my answer. In fact, I would stay there, as leaving wasn't an option until I answered. He left the room, telling me to knock on the door once I've decided.

Most people would probably say they'd jump at the chance to become some sort of secret agent or whatever. Those people have never been given the opportunity. This would be something I would have to hide from my friends and family. Nobody else could know until I was activated. It was a huge burden to bare.

However, I'm a patriot. I didn't join the Marines for free college. I did it because I wanted to serve this country in a way that I felt I was best suited for. After thinking it through, I decided that this was just another way I could serve. Two minutes after knocking on that door, he came back in and I told him I was in. He flashed me a smile and told me that he figured that was going to be my answer.

Then, he had me compile a list of gear I'd like to be put away for me in the location I'd be meeting with my team should everything suddenly go tits-up. Two 'primary' weapons and a sidearm. My choice? An M1A SOCOM with an ACOG optic, an M107 with the standard scope and Bipod, and an M45A1 with a laser sight and 10-round magazines.

He gave me a watch to wear on my person at all times when awake. It was a bit more bulky than my usual watch. Then, he explained how it worked. There was an advanced program called ISAC, pronouned Isaac, housed in the storage of the device. It was essentially a multi-purpose AI capable of scanning objects, hacking into vulnerable networks remotely, and acts as a comms relay between myself, my team, and the First Wave Division Commander.

He explained the functions that were chosen for me for my personal device, called 'Pulse' which in tandem with the backpack addition that we would have with our gear when and if the time came, would send out a 'pulse' wave, essentially acting as a personal SONAR and RADAR. The information would then be relayed to us via special contact lenses and ear piece. It has a 75 meter, 360 degree radius and can be used fairly often. It identifies weakpoints in people, infrastructure, and computers and allows everyone linked up through ISAC on my team to see everything I do.

This kind of technology was entirely new to me and completely over my head on how it works. I mean, AI? Computer contact lenses? Personal SONAR/RADAR? That's shit you see in video games and movies. The Sci-fi kind. Now I was being told it was real. I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise seeing as I was just made some kind of sleeper agent within my own government, but still.

* * *

Six months later I was back in the Middle East. It was December 7th I knew I was going to be activated. Me and my team were watching the news from back home. Several major cities descended into chaos. Some new kind of smallpox-type virus has overtaken not just our country, but also the UK, Canada, Mexico, Russia, China, France, and Germany. Reports were already coming from Spain, India, and several other countries stating that it was spreading so fast that closing borders was the only way to try to keep it in check.

People who were cleared free of the virus were evacuated to 'safe zones' that were set up just for an event like this. Even still, there were people dying in the streets. People were rioting, killing cops, looting, and even killing other civilains. It was a global free-for-all. Over 50% of the world's population has been reported to have been affected. There isn't enough time, money, or resources to sort things out. Violence has taken hold of nearly every major city on the planet.

Sure enough, just when I had gotten back from a patrol the ring around my watch glowed orange. It was so bright that it caught the attention of several other Marines. They asked what that was, but their attention was turned to a blackhawk coming in unannounced. It set down and two people stepped out. They were the suits from before. They told me it was time. I gave my friends a guilty look before climbing into the chopper. To them, that entire scene must have been terribly confusing. As we took off, I saw my CO step out of his tent and one of my friends run up to him, pointing at the chopper.

My CO looked up to me and looked me straight in the eyes. He gave me a sharp nod, a salute, and that was the last time I saw him. Even though I was going off to serve my country, I felt like I was abandoning my post. Everything about the situation screamed 'wrong' over and over in my head. I felt like a traitor.

After taking a jet back to the US, I suddenly felt better about leaving the Middle East. While we were coming in for a landing at JFK Airport in New York, I could see the smoke from all the fires. I knew things were bad, but seeing it in person put things in perspective. Things were this bad all around the globe. It was up to me and people like me to restore order by any means necessary. Just after we landed, a voice came from my watch. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Reaper. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

I had a good laugh at that. Somehow, I had been assigned the very same callsign I had been using for years. Luckily, nobody was at the airport to question me about my weaponry and combat gear as I was leaving. After getting out onto the street, it became very clear to me that there was no way I was going to catch a cab. The streets were completely filled with crashed and abondoned cars, garbage, and bodies. ISAC's GPS activated and lead me to the safehouse on foot. Along the way, ISAC informed me of my team's assigned area of operation. Manhattan. The area most affected by this virus according to the media.

It was a long trek. About 16 miles. Along the way, I was assaulted numerous times by common street thugs with bats and handguns. I still had my M4. All of my training kicked in before I could acknowledge that these were my fellow Americans and they were all dead. After the first encounter, I felt like a traitor once more. My job was to defend the people of this country, not kill them.

However, that was under normal circumstances. I reasoned with myself that these people were part of the problem, and if they couldn't be reasoned with, they had to go. Although I was empowered by Directive 51 which gave me the sole authority over every single other citizen of this country like every other SHD Agent, I didn't have to feel good about it.

I made my way through the city at the pace of a quick jog. It took me almost three hours to reach the designated 'safehouse' which, as ISAC informed me along the way, could only be accessed by Echo team. My team, that is. As it turns out, the safehouse was in a service tunnel connected to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, right before a massive barricade that blocked the way to and from Manhattan. ISAC was capable of unlocking the gate. There was a distinct lack of National Guard stationed at the barricade.

At the designated safehouse I noted that I was the first one there. I also noticed that from a layer of dust and tarps over the furniture, this was set up well in advance. The entryway was a hallway, leading to four doors, each door with a callsign on it. Mine was at the very end before what looked to be a kitchen. The doors leading up to mine were labled with the callsigns Blackout, Joker, and Lifeline. Behind my door was a medium sized bed, dresser, desk, and computer. On the bed was all of my gear under a layer of clear tarp.

Now, from what I described earlier you might think me insane with how much weight I was going to be carrying around. After all, the M107 is a heavy rifle. .50 BMG was a heavy round. The M1A and 7.62 weren't any slouches either, but one thing I learned in the Marines was that weight never bothered me. I had frequently carried heavier loadouts and it never hindered me.

I quickly outfitted myself in the gear provided. I still had my combat gear and clothing from before, not having time to change. However, a change of clothes were inside the backpack provided, along with other essential tools and such. There were also clothes in the dresser. I assumed that they got the right size. I contemplated changing, since usually Marines weren't supposed to wear their camies out in the city, but I decided against it. I felt it might do the civilians some good to see it, and it might ward off anyone thinking about attacking. After all, most people are smart enough to not engage heavily armed, well-trained people with Hi-Point garbage.

Having just gotten done putting in the special contact lenses, I was given the surprise of a lifetime. The door opened and in walked a woman. She was short, but not too short. Blonde hair. Very attractive. Beautiful blue eyes. However, the most surprising thing of all was that I _knew_ this woman. We had dated a while back. It was serious. I was planning on proposing. But one day she came home late. She woke me up and told me that she had done something. She was quick to assure me she didn't cheat on me, but that she had decided on something and we couldn't be together anymore. When I asked her about why and what it was she decided on, she told me she couldn't tell me. She quickly moved out. She cried a lot. Truthfully, so did I.

Now I knew. A year ago she had been selected for The Division. It was no small wonder, really. She was a doctor. A damn good one. Before that, she was a combat medic in the Marines. You see, we had dated all through school, starting in the 6th grade. Before that we had been best friends since we were able to walk. We enlisted together. We were assigned to the same unit. I stayed in, she left after her 4 years and went to school to become a doctor. Even still, we stayed together. She had patched me up both on and off the battlefield.

Seeing her again completely froze my mind. I couldn't think. Neither could she. We just stood there, staring at each other. She was frozen mid-step. Her mouth was slightly ajar and her eyes were fully open. Her eyebrows were as high as they could go. She was just as surprised to see me as I was her, it seemed.

"Mallory?!"

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hello dear readers, welcome to the very first chapter of '** **The Division: Ex Umbra in Solem' where I'll be whipping up a 'what if' story where I insert a squad of SHD Agents who all had some connection to each other before being selected for The Division. As you read above, these will indeed be First Wave agents. I'll do my best to stay true to the story in the game, but I make no promises to adhere to canon. The first four chapters will take place in a first person point of view (POV) and the chapters afterwards will take place in a third person POV.**

 **For anyone interested in an update on my other stories, please check my profile page. Being an avid Fanfiction reader myself, I know the disappointment to see an E-Mail stating there's a new chapter to a story I'm interested in only for it to be an update. My updates will take place in my profile with dates to accompany them.**

 **Thanks for reading the first chapter to my new story. I hope that it draws your attention enough for you to continue reading it.**


	2. Introduction: Lifeline

My name is Mallory Phoenix. I'm a Diagnostician working out of the University of Washington Medical Center. Rather, I was. Before that, I was a Combat Medic attached to a MARSOC unit. I personally wasn't a Raider, having washed out just before graduation, but I knew someone who is. Now I'm an agent of the SHD, the Strategic Homeland Division. I was told that I was selected for The Division for several reasons, one of them being my ability to work in high-stress environments where bullets are flying and people are yelling.

I picked that particular skill up during my time in the Marines. I had joined with my boyfriend and was placed into the same unit as him. When he was selected for the MARSOC pipeline, so was I. Unlike me, he didn't wash out. He took everything they threw at him and asked for more. But he didn't judge me for washing out. He told me that he was always going to be proud of me no matter what, and that wasn't a lie.

When I washed out, instead of going back to my normal duty I was selected to be the designated Medic for the unit my boyfriend was in. He had pulled some strings after graduation and I was happy he did. I was involved with every operation he was in until my 4 years were up. When I told him that I wanted to be a real doctor, he supported that decision. Of course, this meant we'd be apart for the first time in what seemed like forever, but we both dealt with it fairly well. When he was deployed, I was in school. When he was home, I was on break. It was almost like strings were being pulled behind the curtain to make everything line up just so, but whenever I asked him about it he denied doing anything like that.

One day after work, two men in suits were waiting by my car. They told me that I had to come with them. My first thought was that something had happened to Michael, my boyfriend, and he was hurt. They ushered me into their SUV and I knew immediately that wasn't the case. Once inside, there wasn't any seeing outside. I demanded to know what this all was about, but all they told me was that everything would be explained shortly.

That was a lie. It took a long, _long_ time to have my questions answered. We drove for hours. Once we stopped, they opened the door and escorted me to a room attached to some parking garage. The room had a table and two chairs, one on each side. No windows. The hair on the back of my neck was sticking straight up. Before they closed the door, another man in a suit walked in and sat down on the opposite side of the table. I decided that I'd rather stand.

Then, he explained everything to me. He told me that I was selected as a prospect for the SHD. More specifically, I was selected to be what was essentially a sleeper agent. He told me what Directive 51 was and what it was intended for. When I asked why I was selected, he told me things about me that I didn't know were accessible to someone like him.

He went over my history as a child, about how I was always in AP classes, how I got through Pre-Med while I was in High School, how my intelligence was noted by every single teacher and professor I ever had. He spoke of every single operation I was involved in with such detail that I didn't even know was recorded on the official reports. I would have felt flattered at having my ego stroked if I didn't also feel terrified.

He told me that should a catastrophic event happen somewhere in the US, SHD agents would be deployed to contain the situation and restore order. Agents empowered by Directive 51 were answerable only to the President of the United States when activated, and any orders from them would usurp any other orders from anyone else. He pulled out a big, bulky watch and told me how that if an orange ring lit up inside the watch face, every agent was to drop whatever they were doing and go do their duty. Before that, nobody could or would know about my involvement with the SHD.

The man told me that every single person selected for this were all from different careers, locations, and walks of life. He told me with a smile that anyone could be an agent, even people I know or work with. I felt like that was very deliberately said. Immediately my mind went to Michael. Was he already an agent? Were they planning on choosing him? Would he even agree to it?

He then outlined the plan put in place for The Division. Not every agent would be activated at the same time. Instead, groups of agents would be activated in three different 'Waves' and that if I agreed to it, I would be part of the 'First Wave' of agents. Every agent was part of a four-man team, a team that we would only meet if and when we were activated. We'd be guided to a designated location, a safehouse of sorts, and meet up there. Then we would get our orders and roll out. Agents would be assigned callsigns upon activation which would fit our profile and help differentiate ourselves from other agents.

Then, he asked the question. Whether or not I wanted to be an agent of the SHD. He told me that I could take as long as necessary to decide, but I couldn't leave until then. Afterwards, he left the room, telling me to knock on the door when I had decided. I sat there, stunned. Overloaded with all the information I had just been given. Could I do it? Could I be someone who works for the greater good like that? Did I even want to?

It would be a huge burden. I couldn't tell Michael. At the same time, I couldn't keep something like that from him. Neither of us had any secrets to hide from the other. We had known each other since we were kids. He would be able to tell if I was keeping something from him. Then, when he asked, I wouldn't be able to tell him. That would hurt him. It would hurt me. I got up to knock on the door, determined to tell the man in the suit to go to hell. That I wasn't going to do that to the man I loved.

But I stopped, just before my knuckles made contact with the door. I was being selfish, I realized. I was trying to put myself before millions, if not hundreds of millions of people who I might have a chance to help save one day. Tears streamed down my face. How could they expect me to decide? I fell to the floor, bringing my knees to my chest. I couldn't decide. Was I going to essentially destroy what I had with Michael? Or was I going to potentially risk the lives of others just so I didn't have to do that?

I don't know how long I was on that floor before I remember Michael's words to me. Back when I washed out of MARSOC, when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore, he held me. He told me that no matter what, he was proud of me. That nothing in this world would ever change that. He told me that he would always love me.

I stood up, hoping that he would forgive me. I knocked on that door and told the man in the suit what I had decided. I told him yes. Then, he asked me what kind of gear I'd like to have stashed away for me at whatever safehouse was chosen for my team. I picked an HK416, an MP5, and a PX4 Storm. No real surprises there. During my time attached to Michael's MARSOC unit I worked closely with all the gear I had just selected and knew I was good with it.

Then, he told me what my designated 'Shade Tech' gear would be. He took out what looked to be a small round tube and handed it to me. It had a green band of paint on the top and told me that it was a highly compact, extremely durable syringe. The syringe was filled with a solution that would flood the body in an injected area, that it would temporarily stop wounds from bleeding and being painful. This would keep an agent in the fight long enough for them to be patched up afterwards. He said it would last as long as the adrenaline was flowing through one's system and once that was gone, you'd start bleeding again.

He said that I'd have a large stash of these along with my gear, and to use them sparingly if I was ever activated. He said that it works best when injected next to the wound, but that if there are multiple wounds it'll still work, but'll take longer to circulate to the right area. This technology was so far beyond anything else that it wasn't even funny. This sounded like something out of a video game or some cheesy movie. Alas, it was real.

He then told me about ISAC, which was housed in the storage of the watch. It was a multi-purpose AI that could scan objects and people, hack into computers and networks, and act as a comms relay between my team. He explained that to go long with the watch was a pair of special contact lenses and a supplemental device, which would boost the power and range of ISAC's other functions that other members of my team would have access to. The contact lenses weren't corrective, but acted as an augmented reality device to relay all of the information ISAC was capable of processing.

There was also an ear piece, which would allow us to mute the speakers on the watch and have audio from both ISAC and comms come through on the ear piece, ensuring that we maintain OPSEC. This was all less of a shock to me than the medical device, but still shocking nonetheless. Afterwards, he told me that additional gear would be provided for all agents at their designated safehouse, including body armor, spare clothes, and masks with both standard and UV filters.

Then, I was taken back to my car which was still in the hospital parking lot. The reality of what I had just done set in and I was back to feeling guilty. I'd never be able to keep this from Michael, but I had to. He'd figure out I was hiding something and then feel betrayed when I didn't tell him. He'd never ask or bring it up, but he'd know. He was frustrating that way. Michael would call me the smart one, but I knew better. He was just as bright as me, but felt that he'd stick out even more than he already did, so he hid it from everyone. Everyone but me. He never hid anything from me, and I was about to start hiding something from him.

When I finally got home, it was late. Much later than I had ever gotten home before without calling him. I stayed in the driveway and cried in the car. I was about to do something that I never thought I would have to do. I was going to end things with him. Disappear from his life. I wasn't sure if it would be easier than constantly hiding this from him, but I didn't have a choice. This way, I could protect him. It was funny in a way, since he was always the one protecting me even though neither of us needed protecting.

He was confused at first, when I woke him up. I tried to be as vague as possible when I told him that I had done something and because of that we couldn't be together anymore. I knew he wouldn't think it, but I assured him anyways that I hadn't cheated on him. I just couldn't be with him, and I couldn't tell him why. Both of us cried. I got some clothes and stayed at a hotel before getting my own place. A tiny apartment a few miles away from the hospital.

While I was leaving the house I had lived in for years, I noticed something on the coffee table. It was a small, black box. I knew what it was. It was his mother's ring. He was going to propose to me that night and I had just broken up with him. There aren't words that describe just how terrible I felt in that moment.

* * *

About six months later I knew that my activation was coming. Practically every major city had been infected with what was referred to as 'green poison' and the world descended into chaos. I still tried to do my job at the hospital, but things were bad. The National Guard had been deployed all across the country, martial law was in effect, and there was talk about recalling our troops that were deployed overseas. Michael was deployed at this time.

I hadn't gone a single day without thinking about him and what I did. My social life ceased to be. I'd wake up, go to work, come home, and cry myself to sleep. I was living a life that I didn't want after abandoning the life I did want. I didn't give him my address. He could have always come to the hospital, but he didn't. It was better that way for both of us. I hoped that he would have moved on from me, but the exact opposite happened. Instead of trying to make the most out of his time left at home, he asked to be redeployed.

He was. I heard from a few people that we both knew, people from his unit, that he was pushing himself harder than he ever did before. They blamed me. They were right to, but it didn't hurt any less. They told me that Michael was going to get himself killed and it was my fault. I just hoped that they were wrong. I was told that I was being stubborn, selfish, and stupid. There were rumors among all of our mutual friends that I had cheated on him, that I was seeing someone else days after I left. None of them were true, but that didn't stop them.

I knew what they were doing, of course. They were trying to either get us back together or get him to find someone else. From what I understand, it didn't work. It only pushed him further away. But when I heard news of us possibly calling our troops back, my legs felt weak and I nearly collapsed. He was safer in the Middle East, believe it or not. This virus was like smallpox, but a million times worse. It was lethal on a scale never seen before and was able to be transmitted during incubation. The symptoms were so severe that people were arguing whether or not it was better to just euthanize whoever was infected, and it was actually being considered by the ethics board.

I had just gotten off of work when an orange ring glowed in the darkness of my car. It was my watch. I had been activated. Just then, I had two SUVs roll up on either side of my car and I saw two men in suits step out of one. It was the same two from before. They told me that I had to come with them. Knowing this is what I had thrown away my previous life for, I did. They told me that I would be flying to New York. When I asked why I wasn't being sent to Seattle, which was much closer, they told me that agents had already been deployed to Seattle the previous day.

After taking off from a random airfield out in the middle of nowhere in Washington, the watch AI, ISAC, spoke for the first time. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Lifeline. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to the safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

Lifeline was as good of a callsign as any. It was pretty clear what my job would be on the team. ISAC was silent after that. We landed at JFK Airport and while we were touching down I could see the fires all around the city. The airport was empty. Completely, totally empty. Then, ISAC's GPS came online and lead me to the safehouse. It was a long, long walk. Just over 16 miles. I was extremely happy I was armed. I was a concealed carry permit holder and I had to use my weapon, a Walther PPK in .380 APC. Michael had gotten it for me on my birthday the previous year.

My oath to 'do no harm' was directly usurped by my oath to the United States Government when I decided to become an agent of the SHD. While I didn't feel good about putting down street thugs that overstepped their bounds, they didn't listen when I told them I was there to help. Along the way I saw other bodies. Cops, EMTs, civilians, and even National Guard. Some of them were obvious street thugs, still gripping their weapon of choice. I wondered shortly if another Division Agent had been through here, as the shots on the street thugs were extremely precise.

The safehouse was located in a service tunnel connected to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, just off of a service tunnel. Once I unlocked the door to it with ISAC's key code, I knew I wasn't the first one there. There was light coming from the end of a hallway, which had four doors in a row. I was curious and wanted to introduce myself to my teammate. I opened the door and I saw someone I never thought I'd see again.

He was tall. Taller than most people, standing at 6'5. He had two different color eyes, a result of Heterochromia Iridum which he inherited from his mother. Slightly dark, sandy blonde hair. He was very handsome. He also had a light beard, which did little to hide an x shaped scar on his cheek. He got that scar after taking a face full of shrapnel while covering a squad made from an explosion. I know because I was the one who patched up that cheek, and I was the one who he was covering. He protected me countless times and I repaid him by breaking his heart. It was Michael. They had approached him, just like they did me.

Then, I heard him speak.

"Mallory?!"

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hello once again my dear readers. This update came quicker than I thought it would, but I suppose that's not a bad thing. This chapter was pretty easy to write since it followed the same format as the first chapter. The next two chapters will be 'connected' in the same way these two are, so expect chapter 3 to take some time to write and chapter 4 to be posted soon after.**

 **Thanks for reading the second chapter of Ex Umbra In Solem and I hope you continue to follow me on this journey.**


	3. Introduction: Joker

My name is Jack Greene. I'm an agent of the Strategic Homeland Division. Before the Green Poison event, I was a retired Marine. Of course, any good Marine will tell you there's no such thing as retirement from the Corps. I knew why they had chosen me. I was Special Forces. MARSOC, to be precise. After I got out and realized my knees weren't as fucked as most guys who got out, I went into the PMC business. I worked as a contractor with Last Man Battalion. Man, I hated those fuckers.

You see, I had 'worked with' them while I was a Marine. And by 'work with' I mean they completely fucked over my team and got one of my guys captured. My team and I were planning on taking out an HVT, a High Value Target. Some towelhead fuck who liked to strap bombs to kids and send them into camps under the guise of food vendors. He was also a recruiter for ISIS, which was being bombed to hell at the time.

We were supposed to have Apache helicopters at the ready for when we decided to EXFIL, but when that time came they couldn't get into the airspace because the LMB were also in the area and claimed to have jurisdiction over the area. Without those heilos to cover our run back to the rendezvous, we were fucked. We got pinned down and eventually overrun. Of course, the LMB had finally seen the error of their ways but only after one of my guys had stayed behind to cover our retreat himself. The Apaches came in and lit up the target area as we loaded into the MRAP and got the fuck out of there.

Once we got back to the FOB it took almost three days to set up a rescue operation. We had gotten intel that my guy was being held at a town somewhere high up in the mountains. High enough that Blackhawks were going to have a rough time reaching the area. They were broadcasting on the internet and on the radio the typical 'Hey look, we captured an American' but that quickly spiraled into what would be 'Hey look, we beheaded one' if we didn't get him out. His execution was scheduled for the morning after our planned operation. We had been given the green light to use whatever means necessary to get him back alive. So, we loaded up some white phosphorous, geared up in MOPP suits, and went in fast and low. We covered the area in tear gas and got him out. His first words? 'Put me back in, coach'

One year after the operation he was given control over his own team, but not before word somehow got out about our operation. There were accusations of us using Sarin Gas on the village. Almost every channel in the world picked up on this story. Of course, we never used Sarin, but the damage was done. Before our Government was done taking apart every media outlet that ran this story, I resigned. I had enough of being called a baby killer. When I did, an offer came in from the LMB. They did so as a kind of peace offering for fucking up my operation. Of course I was still pissed at them, but a man's gotta eat.

It included a huge bonus, which helped out quite a bit. During my time with them, I was assigned as an 'independent security contractor' and given complete control over any and all dealings with the United States armed forces. They said they didn't want a repeat of what happened to me and my team. The previous person in my position was moved up the chain of command, a man by the name of Charles Bliss. Apparently he was a charismatic fuckhead whose pride got in the way more than once and had a habit of getting other people outside of the LMB killed if they got in the way. As soon as he seized control of the LMB, I quit. The day I quit I was picked up by some spooks, taken for a ride, and then offered a chance to become an agent of the SHD.

They knew all about me. Every single operation I was involved in, every member of my family, and every member of my former squad. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew what I ate for breakfast and how many times I wipe when I take a shit. They told me that I had a choice to make, and if I said yes I'd become a sleeper agent of the SHD. If I was ever activated, I'd drop everything and save the world. I wasn't going to be hiding it from anyone important who I dealt with on a daily basis, so I agreed.

They told me what my equipment would be and showed it to me. Some kind of high-tech shield that was capable of blocking up to 7.62x51. It was pretty light and was able to be used as either a sort of mobile cover or a ballistic shield. I gotta say, I was impressed. That kind of tech was only theoretical last time I had checked. Then they asked what kind of gear I want to be stashed away for me.

I'll be honest, I had a pretty big grin on my face at that moment. I asked what the limits were and he told me as long as I stuck to personal weapons, there were none. So, I went balls to the wall with it. I told him that I wanted a Mk 46 Mod 0. An LMG/SAW. I told him I wanted a typical setup on it when it came to mods. Standard sight, vertical grip, bipod, ammo box.

I told him I also wanted a Milkor MGL, with a mix of HE, HEDP, Airburst, Smoke, and Gas grenades for it. When he asked why, I told him that there's no telling what we might get into and an MGL is a good thing to have around. As a sidearm, I chose Glock 18C with a few 20 round mags for it.

Then, I told him I also wanted some heavy-duty full-body ballistic armor. I wasn't planning on wearing it everywhere my team would go, but I figured that if we were planning some assault on a heavily fortified position I'd be able to draw some fire.

After they dropped me off back home, the reality of the situation set in. I was a sleeper agent. I'd pulled some ops that were classified, but this took the cake and then some. Out of curiosity after the spook mentioned my old squadmates, I check in on anyone who I was still in contact with. It was a damn shame what I found out when it came to the kid who got captured. He and his girl didn't work out for some reason and he was throwing himself into the job. Sooner or later his luck would run out. I tried to talk to him and his girl, ex-girl that is, to find out what exactly happened, but neither of them were eager to talk to me about it. He didn't know, and she wasn't telling. Damn shame, I tell ya.

Black Friday. That's when it started. Everyone got sick. It spread all across the globe. At first, I was worried that we might get invaded by an enemy during our time of weakness. As it turns out, it's pretty hard to invade someone when you're just as bad off, if not worse off than them. Even North Korea got sick. How that happened with their closed borders I'll never know. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was activated.

I was in the middle of helping my sister move when it happened. A ring of orange around the watch face started to glow. I remember the look on my sister's face when it happened, because I'm damn sure I had the same look. You see, while she was busy staring at my watch, I was busy staring at hers. It was like a moment out of a cartoon. We didn't have time to talk, because there was a banging at the door of her new place and two suits asked us to come with them.

We were promptly put on a plane and flown to New York. We talked a bit about how we were each approached, laughed at how fucking ridiculous the entire situation was, and then started to wonder where we were going. My sister wasn't a pushover. She was a Sapper in the Army Rangers. After she got out, she went into the private industry just like me. Except in her case she worked for a defense firm which was under contract by the US Government.

She told me how she was working on the tech that the SHD had. Apparently she had designed the equipment she was assigned. Something called a Seeker mine. Some round ball that would, as the name suggests, seek the target. They came in different sizes and were comprised of different kinds of explosives. All very high-tech, all very over my head. She had 50 IQ points on me.

As we were circling the airstrip, the AI housed inside the watch came online. It was a little weird, since she had just gotten done explaining how she personally worked on ISAC. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Joker. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

When we landed and got off our plane, we saw two other planes preparing to depart. Just like ours, they were completely unmarked. I assumed, as did she, that other agents must have been flown into New York with us. We both had our personal concealed carry weapons on us and while we didn't need to use them, we were glad we had them. Along the way to the safehouse, which was a long fucking way, we saw multiple bodies. Thug, cop, and civilian. Even a few EMTs and Firefighters. Even still, a few National Guard soldiers. It was pretty unsettling.

We got to the safehouse and immediately heard voices. A man and a woman. The other half of our team had gotten there before us. They were also in one of the bedrooms. Before I could make a joke about what they might be doing, we entered the room and saw two people we both knew. The kid who got captured, and his girl. For a long time, nobody said anything. We were staring at each other. I couldn't fucking believe it. The spook suggested we probably wouldn't know who the other agents were. What a fucking liar. I broke the silence by speaking what I was thinking at that exact moment.

"You gotta be shittin' me."


	4. Introduction: Blackout

My name is Erin Greene. I'm an agent of the Strategic Homeland Division. Before the Green Poison spread all over the world, I was the head of a design team for a US defense contractor. I designed all sorts of things, from weapons to tech to medical. That's probably why they chose me for the SHD. I had worked with the equipment that their agents would be using. I had a better understanding of all our projects than most people who had access to it.

I had just finalized my divorce when a pair spooks, men in black suits who work for the government, asked me to come with them. When we got to the destination, I figured we were somewhere on the edge of city limits. The windows were blacked out from the inside so I couldn't see where we were going. They put me in a room and a few minutes later another spook came in. This one was more talkative.

He started by saying that it was nice to finally meet me, and then went over every little detail of my past. He knew everything. Every name of every person I was close to, every location I've ever been, and every project I've ever worked on. He knew of my past as a Ranger, he knew of my brother's past, and he knew of the latest project at the time. ISAC. An AI that would interface with every single bit of equipment we've designed and would be able to access any computer within wireless or Bluetooth range. It was something that a total of six people knew about and was as classified as it got.

Then, he made me an offer. My emotions were running high at the time and I wasn't really in a good position to think about it clearly, but even if I were my answer would have been the same. His offer was for me to become some kind of sleeper agent and, should I be activated, I'd be paired up with three other agents, whom I wouldn't know of until that day, and do whatever was needed of us. Of me. He said that we'd have access to every bit of tech I've designed and then some and that I was an ideal candidate, since I knew what it was capable of.

I'd like to say that I thought long and hard about it, but I didn't. I said yes practically immediately. He smiled a wolf's smile and then asked what kind of equipment I'd like to have stowed away for me. That I actually had to think about. I ended up telling him that I wanted a full crate's worth of Seeker Mines, something I had designed myself. Small drones that rolled around and were loaded with different kinds of explosives that were directed by ISAC when deployed. I told him I also wanted our PDT. Personal Deployable Turret. It's a small, compact turret that makes use of the P90 weapon system that is automated through ISAC and targets hostile foes while ensuring no harm comes to friendlies or civilians. I asked for five. I didn't intend on carrying around five of them, but it never hurts to have a backup plan.

Then, I laid out what I wanted for weapons. Firstly I picked out an MP7. It was lightweight and easy to handle, as well as being a very respectable PDW. Then, I picked out the heavier of my two primary weapons. A Remington M870 MCS with an 18" barrel. I told him I wanted the ammo to be as copious as it was varied. I wanted every kind of shell possible, from slugs to frag rounds and everything in-between. I finished off my selection with a USP Compact Tactical in .45 with a flashlight and suppressor.

–

After a few days, what I had done started to sink in. I went on with my life knowing that any day I could be activated, that I'd have to drop everything and go somewhere to do important things. When we started hearing about the Green Poison, I knew it was only a matter of time. Even still, I had to go about things in a normal fashion until that time came.

My team had heard about Green Poison long before it started getting major media coverage. Classified reports from the CDC about some pandemic flu spreading across Africa came onto our desks about a year before I was activated. It seemed to be a combination of many different things; Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, Machupo, etc. It was clearly grown in a lab and somehow got out, whether it be intentional or not. The plan was to have one of the doctors who had been following the spreading of the sickness put onboard a Arleigh Burke-class Destroyer and sent to the Arctic, where she believed the primordial strain came from. From there, she would find a way to make a vaccine, and then return the information to the CDC so they could start mass-producing it.

They weren't back before the disease hit the US.

The last day I was moving into my new place with the help of my brother was that day. He was in-between jobs, recently having quit the Last Man Battalion, a PMC group, over a disagreement in the change of leadership. He offered to help his little sister move out of her ex's and into her new place. At this time Black Friday had already come and gone and Green Poison had started digging it's claws into the US. At the time it was mainly on the East Coast, but we both knew it wouldn't be long until it spread.

The federal government was implementing quarantine in every major city. I had just barely gotten out of Seattle before they started setting up shop there. That's when the orange LED ring lit up on my watch.

The biggest surprise of my life was when his watch _also_ lit up. We stared for a few moments until a banging came at the door. At first I thought it might be my ex, but it wasn't. It was two spooks that had come to take us to wherever we were needed. From the trip to the airport and the flight to New York, we shared how we each got chosen.

Them picking him wasn't that big of a surprise. He was MARSOC. He had the discipline and training required, as well as being a giant of a man, standing at a little over 6'6 and weighing about 280 pounds of pure muscle. He was pretty interested in what I had worked with for the SHD. When I told him I worked on a modified ballistic shield, he laughed. Apparently that's something he had waiting for him at our safehouse.

While we were circling the airstrip to come in for a landing, ISAC came online. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Blackout. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

When we landed at JFK, we saw two other completely unmarked planes getting ready to take off. We figured out pretty quickly that those belonged to other Division agents. During our trip to the safehouse we saw just how bad New York had gotten. There were bodies everywhere. Civilian, Police, EMT, National Guard. We were both pretty happy to have our personal concealed carry weapons on us, even if we didn't need to use them. Once we got to the safehouse, we heard some voices coming from one of the rooms. David made a shitty joke about what they might be doing, but we went to investigate anyways.

We knew them both. I recognized Michael instantly. He was in pretty much every picture David had from his days in MARSOC. So was Mallory. We had all been together for drinks a few times, and on one of those times I met the man who would be my husband and now my ex. There we all were. Together again. I knew it was suspicious when that one spook mentioned my friends. Now I knew why.

In David's infinite wisdom, he said the brightest thing. "You gotta be shittin' me"


End file.
